


Fall

by SuleikasGhosts13



Series: Beyond the Storm [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Batman: The Animated Series, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse)
Genre: Character Death, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuleikasGhosts13/pseuds/SuleikasGhosts13
Summary: You never forget the time you saw someone die. In its immediate aftermath, the sight haunts you in both your dreams and your waking hours.Sure, the memory may fade and grow hazy over the years, but sometimes it snaps back with a vengeance- crystal clear.
Series: Beyond the Storm [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853740
Kudos: 1





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Based off "Batman Adventures" #17.

You never forget the time you saw someone die. In its immediate aftermath, the sight haunts you in both your dreams _and_ your waking hours. Sure, the memory may fade and grow hazy over the years, but sometimes it snaps back with a vengeance- crystal clear. Then you have to restart the healing process all over again.

Your family has been neighbors with Detective Giella since the days when you were crawling around in diapers. Nice old guy, always gives you the full-sized candy bars on Halloween and remembers your birthday.

You're thirteen now, too old for all that kids junk. At least, that's what you tell yourself as you pocket the fifty cents he's given you for the gumball machine. Yep, practically an adult.

Scarfing down a steak and cheese submarine, you don't think much else about old Mr. Giella until Joey Tierney runs into the cafe shouting. "There's a fight down at Peterson Auto! Batman's there!"

Peterson Auto Body Shop is right across the the street from your place. You drop everything in your haste to race home. Your thoughts turn to your parents and your stomach grows queasy.

The cops are dragging a bruised and bloody Killer Croc into an awaiting paddywagon by the time you reach it. Mr. Giella is standing out front, obviously shaken but otherwise appearing unhurt.

"Mr. GIELLA!" You shout, running to his side. "Are you alright?!"

"Ah! Warren!" He startles, "Yes, thank goodness. Lucky shot- is everyone else safe?"

"You and the Bat were the only guys he attacked," Detective Bullock drawls, appearing from the repair shop. He's nibbling on a toothpick.

Mr. Giella sighs heavily, "That's a relief."

"Nice work, old-timer," Bullock claps a hand on his shoulder. "You did the boys in blue proud."

He's the talk of the town for the following few days: the senior citizen who took down a monster cannibal. By mere association, you become a mini-celebrity yourself. Everyone's asking how you know the old man, did you see the fight, did you meet Batman? You impatiently wait for the schoolbell.

Later that night, you're spread across the living room rug with a bowl of popcorn beside you. Mom and Dad are cuddled on the couch behind you.

"The whole thing was a coincidence, really. Just being in the right place at the wrong time," your neighbor is telling the beautiful reporter on tv.

"I live across the Peterson Auto Body Shop, ten floors up. I saw Batman chase Croc over the rooftops below my balcony," he continues. "So I holstered my weapon, phoned for backup and headed down to the street to help.

"But I'm not a hero," Mr. Giella insists. "I'm just a homicide detective. I'd never discharged my weapon at a suspect before. When Croc jumped out at me in the dark, I fired wild and hit a chain above his head. The chain was holding back a few hundred pounds of engine block. _That's_ what took the fight out of Croc when it landed on his head. Not me."

"He's being modest," Mom vehemently disagrees.

"Well," says the reporter, "it earned you your _third_ gold star citation from Commissioner Gordon, Detective Giella. You're Gotham's newest hero!"

The tiny bespectled man flushes red, but holds up his hand. "I appreciate this attention, I do. But I was just doing my job."

"Our audience remembers how well you "just did your job" five years ago when you stopped the Paris Avenue Strangler from claiming an eighth victim..."

"Well we _do_ catch them every now and then," he remarks. "But I try to stay focused on the ones we haven't got, yet. Like the Segarini drowning. Or the _first_ homicide case I was assigned. To this day, it's considered an open file in my department... We still don't know who shot the _Waynes_."

The name seems familiar.

"Isn't that your boss, Dad?" You ask, looking back at him. He nods.

"His parents were murdered down in Park Row when he was a kid," he answered soberly. "It was a mugging gone bad. Guy pulled a gun on them, demanded their valuables- but Thomas Wayne fought back. He was a boxing champion back in his university days, but he never even got a punch in."

"This is why," Mom added, "when you're being robbed, you don't resist. You give them what they want. Your life is far more valuable than any material wealth."

"The scoundrel shot Mrs. Wayne next," Dad proceeds, "but he left Bruce Wayne alive. We don't know why. Maybe he just couldn't bring himself to shoot a child."

Your heart swells with sympathy. You only met the Boss at that one Christmas party a few years back, but he seemed nice enough. You never could've imagined such an awful thing happened to him.

Returning your attention to the interview, you listen to them discuss some object Mr. Giella discovered.

"Because it's a symbol that justice never rests, and I'm not going to rest until I close that file."

_"Everywhere?"_ The reporter exclaims, "Is that safe? Do you have it with you right now?"

"Uh-huh. Sure." Mr. Giella digs through his pockets, digging out an old copper button. "I'm not sure it's even related to the case. It's more of a symbol, reminding me to never give up on this investigation."

He holds it up for the camera to zoom in. "This is it. The button I picked up in the alleyway the night of the Wayne murders. I've been carrying it with me for _years._ "

That night you have _terrible_ dreams. Your Mom and Dad, dying in a pool of their own blood. The thunderous sounds of gun shots and some shadowy figure runs off into the distance....

You're still thinking about the Waynes when Sammy Moulton taps you on the shoulder at lunch. "Hey, hey, did you hear?" She asks excitedly.

"Hear what?" You say through a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich.

"Killer Croc!" She yips, almost tossing her Fluffernutter in the air. "He banged his way out of the hospital this morning! Cops are out looking for him."

"You're kidding me," you gasp. You almost choke and have to gurgle down some carton milk to force it down.

"Poor Mr. Giella," Joey drawls, flopping down opposite you. "He'll be looking over his shoulder for awhile, what with being all over the television and shit."

You make a point of heading straight home after school. The tennis club can wait. You want to make sure your neighbor's been warned.

Unfortunately, he isn't there. Mom says he's probably working the late shift tonight, and not to worry, his colleagues at the GCPD will watch after him. She's right, you know, absolutely right; the cops won't let anything happen to the old man.

You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. 

Despite her reassurances, you still find yourself peaking out into the hall every so often. Dad's pestering you to finish your homework and get ready for bed. You just shake your head and tell him, "In a minute!"

"In a minute, my foot, Warren!" He growls, pulling you away by your collar. He marches you into the bathroom and blocks your escape, arms folded.

You glare at him, but he doesn't budge. You shrug your shoulder, as if that would alleviate some of the frustration, and start to brush your teeth.

Your mouth is full of foam when you hear it: raised voices. They're _next door._ You move to investigate it, but your father holds his hand up. There's a frown on his face; he hears it too.

"Stay here," he says firmly. Then he leaves the apartment. You're dying to follow, but know better than to disobey.

After what seems like an eternity, Dad reappears, a deep frown embedded in his features. "Mr. Giella's alright. He apologized for having the volume on his TV too high."

You're pretty sure he doesn't believe it, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd Person is so hard. What have I gotten myself into?
> 
> New chapters on my other stories will be out later this month. Look forward to that Halloween. 🎃


End file.
